


Recollection

by whimsicalmuse



Category: Lost, Taggart (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, Multi, Orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-05
Updated: 2005-02-05
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taggart/Lost crossover written in exactly 22 minutes sans beta for the  <a>Drabble fest</a> over at billydomotpfqf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recollection

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

The first time He saw him he knew he’d be easy prey. He was up on the stage all legs, swaying hips, and purring pink flushed lips. The sickly yellow lights shone down on his head, blonde strands bobbing gently as he swayed to the music, fanning out and glowing like a neon candy halo.

The colors loved him well as did the clothes he wore: tight tees, slim jeans, and trendy shoes. And as he made love to the microphone, Charlie toyed with his emotions, every rise and fall, like a promise then a ghost of a disappointment.

Until at last He slunk into shadow, wore the darkness like a cloak, and lit a cigarette, content to watch and to wait. And when the music ended, and the crowd dissipated they nudged him to move in, and offer up the right bait.

~

The first time Charlie saw him, he knew he’d have what he needed, and never questioned what he’d have to do to get it. What he questioned was why, and how a man such as he, found himself doing business as he was. He was terribly lovely: fey eyes and a slim neck and in another life, Charlie might have fancied him.

But those questions were never suitable to be asking on such occasions, rather Charlie handed over the money, and scampered away with his vice, looking back, just because, for yet another glance.

And when the tide caught up with him, and he was falling, falling, in the darkness all he saw was shadow and the Fey man’s cigarette light.

~

The first time Charlie came to him, he looked like shite and death besides. His face was damp and the skin under his eyes sallow, and though his first question was how Charlie found him, the question died on his lips, once the man fell heavily in his arms.

Even now, pining as he was, He found himself wanting, savoring the feel of sharp hips and grasping hands.

Please, I’ll do anything, was the sad man’s cry and He honestly found it too easy to oblige.

~

The first time He kissed Charlie, it was like the world was turned onto reverse. The air inverted, and ran from Charlie’s lungs and then like a slap in the face, things were righted again.

He knew what he was doing, what he’d offered for the hit, but now that the fire ants beneath his skin were on hiatus he was not too pressed to care. Besides which, Charlie reasoned, this wasn’t much work, as since their meeting he’d found himself thinking far far too often of the Fey.

~

The last time He saw him, Charlie turned him away, snarling like the deathly wounded his face coiled tight and mean. He’d wanted to go to him, to save him, somehow, but the frankness of daylight provided only the chance for Him to offer a bit of relief.

Charlie had snatched his prize and ran, without a second look back like he did the first time they met. And as He watched him go, his face fixed on his vice, He knew he’d just sent Charlie off to his death.

~

The last time Charlie thought of him, he was covered in sand, the warm waves kissing whisper-soft at his feet. He was thinking of their few moments when it wasn’t business but something more and He’d suggested they steal off to the beach.

The sun was milky-white then, and cold, not honeyed and balmy as it was here. But even then when he’d watched Him, throwing stones into the sea, he knew with a sad resolution that somehow through all this, Charlie began to hold Him dear.

But that time was long over, it was a wisp of a dream. Charlie ran from him, he’d left him that day. And now he was doomed to his demons, to the demands of his body, both for his drug, and the company of his Fey.


End file.
